


One hand ties the other

by cyclogenesis (addictedkitten)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 22:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3225587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictedkitten/pseuds/cyclogenesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael accidentally kisses Calum onstage in Nashville, and Luke has more feelings about it than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One hand ties the other

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned by [Kayla](http://mychemicalcliffordd.tumblr.com/), with my thanks. Love to [Nina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/loafers/) for putting up with me going on about it as usual. This fic was prompted by [actual events](https://vine.co/v/MLTbBlxLDLx). Title from House of Jealous Lovers, by The Rapture.

“I can’t believe you kissed me, bro,” Calum says, which catches Luke’s attention, being the first he’s heard of Calum being allegedly kissed by any bro. His worries about how his voice had cracked a bit during Heartbreak Girl vanish as Michael slings an arm around Calum’s neck and pulls him close, smacking multiple kisses over Calum’s face and then his hands as Calum giggles and tries to push his face away. 

“You kissed Calum?” Luke asks, pausing a bit in the hallway. It trips everyone up behind him, a break in the rush of getting offstage, roadies pushing around them in the opposite direction to break down their set and put up 1D’s. 

“I’ll do it again too,” Michael says, finally letting Calum push him away with a laugh. He continues making kissy faces at him. 

“This is why I sit in the back,” says Ashton, his hand on the base of Luke’s spine guiding him gently forward to their dressing room. “So none of you people can try and make out with me under the guise of sharing a microphone.” Luke lets himself be pushed, trying to piece together what must have happened - there was that weird break during Don’t Stop when Calum giggled instead of going into the next verse, maybe it was then? Michael had bounded back to his side of the stage with some urgency and a blush on his cheek, but Michael always gets a little flushed onstage anyway, pinked-up cheeks and wild hair. 

“You kissed,” Luke says again, to both of them this time, still trying to get a handle on things. They spill back into their dressing room and Calum goes immediately for the fridge, grabbing a couple of beers. 

“No one wants to make out with you anyway,” Michael tells Ashton, ignoring Luke just like Calum did. He takes the beer Calum hands him, like they’re some kind of boyfriends who get each other drinks and share sexy stage kisses without Luke even knowing about it. 

“Excuse me,” Ashton says, outraged. “Everyone wants to make out with me. Luke would make out with me.” 

“No I wouldn’t,” Luke says. “You’re always stubbly. It would scratch.”

“I could shave,” Ashton says, his hands on his hips. 

Luke shrugs. “I guess if everyone else is doing it.” Ashton looks pleased. 

“You’re all gay,” Calum says. He flops onto the couch and cracks open his beer, tipping it back and taking a long swig. “No wonder all the ladies gravitate towards me and me alone.” He shakes his head mournfully. “It’s my burden.”

“How come you never want to share the mic with me?” Luke asks Michael, switching his focus. Does he smell or something? He gives his shoulder a discreet sniff, but it’s hard to tell. His flannel smells kind of like rain from the drizzle that morning. It’s not unpleasant. 

“Don’t let him,” Calum says sagely. “It’s just an excuse for him to put the moves on you.”

Ashton and Michael have already gone from examining the catering table, to fighting over a bag of Fritos, to staging a duel involving bananas.

“Maybe I want him to put the moves on me,” Luke mutters. He goes to the minifridge and gets himself a juicebox. 

Calum sings a song about being a lonely straight man. Ashton wins the banana duel and Michael crushes the bag of Fritos in revenge, then throws it at him as Ashton squawks in distress. Luke sits on the couch and sips his apple juice. 

“If you’re in the mood to experiment, I’ll let you suck my dick,” Calum offers. 

“I’ll let you suck _my_ dick,” Luke says moodily.

“No one’s sucking anyone else’s dick,” Ashton says. 

-

Not that Luke’s obsessing about it, but, “How come you kissed Calum?” Luke asks Michael pretty much the second he gets him alone. That might be a generous use of the term, considering they’re just in the back lounge of the bus because Luke followed Michael back there like a big creep and the door’s not even fully closed, but whatever. Alone enough.

Michael looks up from his phone, quirking an eyebrow. “It wasn’t much of a kiss,” he says, then frowns. “Why, did he say it was bad? He better not be talking shit about my skills, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“A reputation with who?” Luke asks. He slumps onto the couch next to Michael and pulls his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on a knee.

“ _Everyone_ ,” Michael says significantly. Then he shrugs and looks back at his phone. 

Luke tries not to let it bother him, but he still squirms at the thought of Michael kissing everybody. Anybody. Even though it’s not even a real thing. Michael likes to think he’s some big ladies’ man (and occasionally dudes’ man) but ninety percent of the time he’d rather cuddle up to his gaming laptop instead of going out prowling for hookups. Luke knows him. He’s not falling for Michael’s shit. 

Still, something in him is obliquely annoyed at the thought of Michael just kissing Calum in front of everybody. Just kissing Calum anywhere, really. It’s all aggravating. 

“Why are you so worried about it anyway?” Michael asks finally, nudging Luke with his elbow until Luke uncurls with a little grumble and lets himself fall against Michael’s side. Michael lifts his arm so Luke can snuggle in better, and Luke lets himself fall until his head is in Michael’s lap, pillowed on his thigh. Michael sets his phone aside and stares down at him. After a moment he rubs his thumb over Luke’s temple lightly, pushes his fingertips into Luke’s hair where it’s getting a little long on the sides. He makes a kissy face and coos, “Are you jealous?”

Luke whines and shoves at him, not very effectively since it’s an awkward stretch and he doesn’t really mean it anyway. He hides his face in Michael’s belly instead, mumbles, “Shut up.”

“Aw, you are,” Michael says. He scritches Luke’s head like a kitty. Luke blows a retaliatory raspberry into Michael’s tummy right over the T in the Metallica logo, and Michael jerks away at the feeling, laughing and nudging Luke’s head back. “It’s okay baby,” he says, gazing down at Luke with exaggerated moony eyes. “I’m still saving myself for you.”

“Bullshit,” Luke grumbles. He rolls onto his other side and then wiggleworms himself further across Michael’s lap, not stopping until he’s draped fully over it, Michael’s hand coming to rest at the base of his spine. He lays his head on his crossed arms, letting out a hefty, pointed sigh. “You can’t kiss Calum now, I’ve got you trapped,” he says. 

Michael bends down close. His breath is hot against the back of Luke’s neck and his voice soft when he says, “It was an accident anyway.” The brush of his lower lip against the top of Luke’s spine makes Luke shiver, the soft touch settling something in his skin, warming him. Michael makes a soft, “aww,” sound, nuzzles his nose against the soft spot below Luke’s ear. It feels good, so Luke leans up into it a little, seeking more contact. “Want me to kiss you too so it’s even?” Michael asks, hot and low as he nudges his mouth against Luke’s throat, almost a kiss already. 

Luke knows somewhere deep down that this is just a game. Michael’s a tease, he always has been; always a little more willing to cuddle up close, to make a dirty joke, to seize on the slightest thread of tension and draw it out to see what unravels. This tendency happens to collide with Luke’s need for touch and attention more often than not. Michael always wins games of gay chicken but Luke lets him get the farthest of them before drawing away from whatever snuggle or grope he’s going for. Maybe he’s just always been curious. Maybe it’s just always felt too good to stop before he knows he absolutely has to. 

Luke braces himself to shift and startles Michael as he rolls over carefully, ends up on his back, arched across Michael’s lap. He fumbles behind himself until he touches a pillow and drags it over to prop his head up. Michael stares down at him. His cheeks are flushed pink like they’re playing a show, pupils dark. “Show me how you kissed Calum,” Luke demands. It’s ridiculous, he knows he’s being ridiculous. It was just an accidental brush of lips, probably. Nothing to get jealous over, nothing Luke should be obsessing about the way he is. 

“Shut up,” Michael says. His cheeks are getting pinker, the flush high and hectic. Luke wants to feel it close, the urge in him absurd and intense, desire curling up in him. He just wants to press his cheek to Michael’s, that’s all, wants to feel the heat of his skin, the soft brush of his lips. It doesn’t mean anything. His body wants all kinds of things all the time, it’s never meant he’s had to answer those wants or even listen to them. 

Luke tilts his face up, challenging. He doesn’t say anything else, just meets Michael’s eyes, stares him down even though he’s the one on his back. It’s nice to meet Michael’s bravado and outdo him for once. For however long Michael will let this go on, anyway. 

Not long, apparently. Michael huffs out a sigh, his eyes on Luke as he bends close, like he’s waiting for Luke to crack up, give in and end the joke. Luke stays firm, his stubbornness resolving into a kind of quiet peace within him. Michael pauses above him, so near that Luke can feel his breath, the heat of him. Luke parts his lips, arches closer so his lower lip bumps Michael’s in a gentle catch. 

“He was singing,” Michael says, nonsensical until Luke swims up a bit, remembering the context. Michael drifts the last centimeter forward, lets his mouth press against Luke’s, far enough over that he misses Luke’s lip ring. It’s hardly a kiss at all, it isn’t enough, it’s not what Luke wanted - he arches up further, does the only thing he can think of to keep Michael close and bites lightly down on Michael’s lower lip. 

Michael inhales, sharp and sudden, tries to draw back but Luke bites harder, not to wound but to keep him there. He opens his eyes back up and lets his mouth go slack when he sees the look on his face, the shock there, the heat, and then Michael’s cupping his face, sliding his hand into Luke’s hair and dragging him back up. He presses his mouth hard against Luke’s and it feels like retaliation, a hard kiss taken in revenge for his bitten lip. Luke lets Michael have it, lets him win, and Michael keeps him pinned in place with his body, with his mouth, dragging his teeth over Luke’s lower lip and licking after the sting, licking in for a deep kiss that makes Luke moan, hot and helpless and embarrassing. 

Luke touches him, follows his body’s need to reach up, slide his hands into Michael’s hair, stroke his thumbs over Michael’s pale throat. He feels Michael’s pulse pounding away or maybe it’s his own, a thumping echo as he opens up under Michael, keeping their kiss wet and deep. His thumb slides over Michael’s jaw, catching on the stubble there and continuing in a gentle scrape. It should be a reminder - this is Michael, a boy, wrong for more reasons than that - but instead it’s just another new pleasure, as lovely as the feel of Michael’s mouth is, full and soft against his own. Luke falls into the kiss like he’s fallen asleep in Michael’s arms so many nights, cuddled up close and not talking about it in London, in too many hotel rooms where it seemed more expedient to crawl under the covers together than it did to try and fiddle with a foreign thermostat. 

Michael who pulls back so suddenly that Luke gasps at the loss of him, like the shock of air after a deep dive underwater. Michael’s flushed, panting a little, and his mouth looks so _kissed_ that Luke almost moans at the sight of it, can’t stop himself from reaching up to touch it, feel the swollen soft curve of Michael’s lower lip. Michael’s so beautiful and Luke wants him so much and it feels so simple, an answer to a question he hadn’t known he was asking for years. 

“It’s okay,” Luke tells him. His voice cracks in the middle of it. He’s not sure if it is okay, honestly. But it’s the two of them, and haven’t they always figured it out together in some way or another? How not to hate each other, how to live with each other, how to love each other. Luke just never really let himself think that the latter could involve things like this, at least not until Calum got it first. “Was I better than Calum?” he asks. 

It’s a weak joke, and Michael’s laugh verges on desperate, a huffed out sigh that chokes into a giggle. “Yeah, that was better,” he says. His voice sounds raw, used up. Luke wants to feel it in his throat, beneath his fingers, against his mouth. 

He feels too vulnerable, splayed out on his back on Michael’s lap, fumbles a bit to right himself, sit up and squirm off until he’s just sitting next to Michael on the couch, pretending he didn’t feel Michael’s dick hard in his jeans and hoping Michael intends to do him the same courtesy. 

Michael just stares at him once he’s moved away. He looks at a loss, and Luke can’t recall ever seeing him look quite that way before. His mouth opens, then closes, opens again. He bites his lip and says, abruptly, “I’m hungry. I’m gonna go get food.” He stands up like an exclamation point punctuating the sentence, then looks down again at Luke. “Okay,” he says. It isn’t a question. 

“Okay,” Luke echoes. They lock eyes until Michael swallows, blinks at him and then turns away and walks out. Luke keeps looking in his direction long after Michael’s left the lounge. At least he has some privacy for his sexuality crisis. 

-

Michael’s quiet through the rest of the night, turning in early. Every time Luke walks by the closed curtain of his bunk he wants to twitch it open, crawl inside and wrap himself around Michael and not let go. He doesn’t give into the urge. 

Luke sleeps alone, restlessly, and they’re already at the venue by the time he wakes up. It’s a sunny day out but Luke doesn’t feel particularly sunny, shuffles into easy all black and sunglasses to hide the dark circles under his eyes. Michael’s edgy, snippy with everyone over breakfast, so Luke avoids him. It’s easy enough since Michael’s avoiding him too. There’s an itch under Luke’s skin that he can’t figure out how to scratch and it burns hot through the morning and into the afternoon. 

He wants more, is the problem. One kiss wasn’t enough, and it’s stupid that Michael’s right there, with his soft pretty mouth, and Luke can’t just press his own against it like he wants to. He keeps staring at Michael like a giant weirdo and Michael keeps catching him, his eyes lingering on Luke’s mouth before he looks away. Luke’s like, seventy percent sure Michael would kiss him again, if only he could figure out the right way to approach it. It seems like it should be so simple, after all. He knows it felt just as good for Michael as it did for himself. Why wouldn’t Michael want to do it again? 

Michael keeps to his phone throughout the day so Luke follows his lead, scrolls mindlessly through Twitter, lets himself get drawn into looking at a bunch of outdoor Parkour videos with Ashton. Michael clings annoyingly to Calum when he’s paying attention to anybody, and apparently Calum’s in a rare mood to coddle him because he’s just sweet and patient and lets Michael get as handsy as he wants while Luke pretends it’s all fine and he’s not about to turn into a giant jealous rage monster about it. 

Luke’s usually pretty good about leaving it all behind onstage, taking whatever he’s got going on and locking up whatever he can’t use for the show, but it’s rough when the reminder’s bouncing around to his right. Somehow Michael manages to channel whatever he’s feeling into his voice, making it a husky growl, purring his way through lines about good girls. It makes Luke stupidly, obscenely jealous of the audience, of all things, that they get to see Michael this way, hear him this way. Luke wants that purr all to himself. He wants to bite big purple bruises into Michael’s throat so everyone can see who his voice and body belong to. 

The urge scares him more than anything; he’s never been particularly possessive, not of people, but it feels like Michael should be just for him now. It feels like Michael’s his to claim. 

His feet carry him rightwards before he even really thinks about it, his body knowing what its doing even if his brain is still playing catch-up. He ends up at Michael’s microphone, leaning in close as Michael side-eyes him, raises an eyebrow and gives him space to get in and echo his line, close and then closer until Michael breaks off with a giggle and lets Luke finish the verse for him. He bounds away like a kitty that Luke just wants to pet for a second, all cute and teasing. 

Luke is gonna pin him down and cuddle him so hard later whether they do sexy stuff or not. The decision settles in his bones and he finishes up their set with ease and a clear mind. 

-

It’s a hotel night and a proper bed beats out Ashton and Calum’s eagerness to go explore the Houston nightlife. Well, that and the fact that Michael begs off, shrugging that he’d rather do room service and a night in. He doesn’t look at Luke when he says it but Luke still feels like it’s for him. An invitation or something like it, like Michael tweeting that he’s bored so somebody will come entertain him. Luke takes his time in his room, showering and changing for bed. When he gets out of the shower he has six texts from Michael, each one more pitifully emoji-filled than the next until the final one that just reads _DID YOU DIE_.

 _Just showered, I’ll come over_ , he sends back. Michael’s sulky, _good, you smelled_ , reply just makes Luke smile. 

The connecting door between their rooms is already unlocked when he checks it after knocking. Luke ignores Michael’s, “Go away, we don’t want any,” and walks on in. Michael’s sprawled out on the bed in his boxers already, so Luke takes a bit of a running start and then leaps onto the bed next to Michael, landing hard enough to make the springs creak. 

He rests his chin on his hands and crosses his shins in the air, approximating a pin-up girl pose. “Hi,” he says, grinning.

“Shut up,” Michael groans. “You’re so weird.”

Luke shrugs and grabs the spare pillow, wiggles up so he can rest his head on it and keep looking up at Michael. He kicks his feet back and forth and makes funny faces until Michael laughs and pushes at his shoulder. 

“You’re such a dick,” Michael says. Luke makes little biting motions at Michael’s fingers on his shoulder, and Michael flicks him lightly on the nose. “How are you so calm about everything? Are we just never gonna talk about how you kissed me yesterday?”

Luke raises his eyebrows high, and Michael looks at least a little abashed, but not regretful about it. “I thought you kissed everybody yesterday,” Luke says. It’s honestly surprising that Michael even brought it up; Luke figured he’d repress the whole situation for as long as Luke allowed it. Michael’s a risk-taker but he only has about one a year in him, and he’s always been more cautious when it comes to his friends. 

“Whatever,” Michael says. “You were the one who said you’d kiss Ashton.” He wrinkles his nose at Luke like the very thought offends him. 

“Maybe I will,” Luke says. He rolls onto his back, looks contemplatively at the ceiling. “I’ll kiss Ashton and I’ll kiss Calum, I’ll go for the whole band. I’ll kiss everyone in the whole world.”

“Your lips would get tired,” Michael says. He sounds grumpy about it as he slouches down further onto the bed. “Don’t kiss them,” he mumbles. 

“ _You_ don’t kiss them,” Luke tells him. He turns onto his side a little and faces Michael. “You started this whole band kissing thing, I’m just following the trend.” His heart is beating so fast that he wonders if Michael can hear it through his chest. He lays his hand between them on the doona, fingers tapping and sliding over the slick satiny fabric. His fingerprints feel raw with the need to touch, with the absence of warm skin. 

“Well I’m stopping it,” Michael says. “No more kissing.” He puts his hand on Luke’s fingers, stilling him. “Quit it,” he says, a beat too late, his voice hoarse. 

“A little more kissing,” Luke says, his voice soft. He slowly turns his hand up beneath Michael’s, Michael watching as he slots their fingers together, lightly squeezes.

“A little,” Michael echoes, so quiet it’s barely more than an exhale. 

Luke leans in first, maybe, by a moment, but Michael meets him halfway. He kisses Michael and it feels like sinking back into his own skin, centering himself in what he’d already realized. He keeps it slow, easy, until he can’t anymore, has to fist his hand in Michael’s t-shirt and drag his body close, feel all of him. He knows Michael’s body so well, has known it for years, the softness of his tummy and arms, his thin wrists and short fingers, but there’s so much more to think about now. He could kiss all of it, see all of it, get his fill of staring and then take even more. He’ll take whatever Michael will let him have. 

His body outpaces his thoughts, his legs already winding with Michael’s, pressing them together. It makes him moan when his hard cock pushes against Michael’s through their pants. He can hardly think, kiss-drunk and lightheaded, so eager for more that he just thrusts against Michael, moaning at the friction between their cocks. Michael’s fingers clench on his waist and Luke gasps, opens his eyes to catch the wild green of Michael’s eyes, the hot pink of his cheeks. 

“What about more than just kissing?” Michael asks. He bites his lower lip, red and kiss-swollen. 

“Okay,” Luke says, then adds, “yes, please.” It seems suddenly very important that he get as naked as possible. His undressing spurs Michael to match him and then there’s a whole lot of nudity. Luke barely has a chance to appreciate it, though, before Michael’s got his arms around his waist, tipping him over onto his back. Luke’s legs slide apart to let Michael between and Michael groans, leans down to kiss him hard. 

It’s too good, Luke melts into it too easily, grappling for whatever of Michael he can reach. Their cocks slide together between them and Luke thrusts up against him, reaches down before he really thinks it over. He just needs to touch Michael, know how he feels hard and wanting. They’ve definitely cuddled far too many times for Luke not to have encountered Michael’s dick before, soft against his ass or hip when they’re tucked up close in bed. He’s felt it hard, even, morning wood kind of comes with the teenage boy territory and it’s never been a big deal or something they talked about. Which was probably good, because then Luke would have probably let it slip that he always liked it, feeling Michael that way. Feeling close to him. This is better, though. Far better now that he’s allowed to touch. 

Michael still gasps when Luke curls his hand around his dick, his hips jerking like he’s surprised to feel Luke touching him that way. He thrusts into Luke’s grip like he can’t help himself, fucking Luke’s fist until Luke arches up to steal another kiss, the briefest press of lips before Michael pulls back, making Luke whine. 

He doesn’t go far, though, kisses Luke’s throat, his collarbone, his chest, Luke only fuzzily aware of the fact that Michael’s moving southward. He reaches Luke’s hip and kisses him there, right over the bone. By then he has Luke’s rapt attention, Luke’s breath held in his chest as Michael grins up at him, hovers over his dick for a second and then just goes for it, taking Luke’s cock in hand and angling it toward his mouth, swallowing it down.

Luke’s heels kick against the bed, his hips twitching with the need to thrust up deeper, give Michael more of it, warring with his innate need to be polite. It’s not super nice to fuck someone’s mouth unless they’ve requested he do so, even though the very thought makes him whimper with need. Michael’s mouth is hot, wet, and he doesn’t have any trouble fitting almost all of Luke’s cock in his mouth in one go. Luke would be impressed if he weren’t so busy trying not to come in two seconds and embarrass himself. 

Michael sucks hard and skillful and Luke doesn’t bother trying not to moan. It makes Michael smile around his cock, a funny feeling that makes Luke smile too, happy that Michael’s happy to be there with him. Michael blows him so well that it takes a minute for Luke to recognize that there’s something else going on, the feeling unrecognizable, an extra rub against his cock that makes sense once he sees Michael’s finger emerge wet from his mouth around Luke’s dick. Their eyes meet and Michael raises an eyebrow.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen gay stuff before, not like he hasn’t thought about it. He spreads his legs and tries to relax, ready to try it, at least. Michael keeps sucking him, one hand on Luke’s ass guiding it up a little so he can tease his wet fingertip over Luke’s hole. Luke knows this feeling well enough, he’s explored the neighborhood out of curiosity. Michael’s gentle touch feels good, strangely tender, a soft stroke over him, rubbing him in circles until Luke relaxes further, until it’s easy for him to slide his finger in. 

Something about the way Michael touches him is better than anything he’s done to himself, anything he’s tried. It scares him a little, knowing he could get addicted to this. 

“You’re not gonna do this onstage to Calum, are you?” Luke asks, slightly out of breath. 

“Shut _up_ ,” Michael tells him, pulling off Luke’s cock to laugh. He punctuates it with a firm bite to Luke’s thigh and a deep stroke of his finger. “I’ll only do it to you, if you want,” he says, mumbled this time against Luke’s skin. He looks up through his eyelashes at Luke. 

“Yeah, I want,” Luke gasps, too much to try and keep his head in order with how good Michael’s making him feel, “With you, only you.” He hopes it’ll get his point across, he’s too far gone for eloquence now. It seems to be what Michael wants to hear, anyway, judging by the little grin he tries to hide against Luke’s thigh before he doubles down, takes Luke’s cock back into his mouth, sucks him and strokes him inside, hot and determined until Luke stutters out, “I’m gonna come.” 

Michael doesn’t move away. He swallows Luke’s come easily, releasing his cock so the last spurt stripes over the flat of Luke’s belly. Luke’s muzzy brain sort of wonders why, mostly doesn’t care, and gets an answer either way when Michael moves up his body, pins him down and says, “I’m gonna last like thirty seconds, just hold still.” He pushes against Luke’s hip, his thick cock sliding in the wet little pool of Luke’s come, a warm enough friction to allow Michael to just thrust against him, rub off slick and frantic until he gasps and kisses Luke’s slack mouth, comes all over him. 

He doesn’t precisely collapse onto Luke, but he stops holding himself up as well. Luke squirms under him, finally wheezes pointedly and shoves at Michael. Michael rolls off of him entirely, which wasn’t really what Luke was going for but at least Michael grabs his hand afterward, looking over at him. “I can’t believe it took me accidentally kissing Calum onstage to make you realize you wanted to do me,” he says.

Luke squinches his nose at him. “Shut up. You didn’t realize it until I kissed you.”

“Dude,” Michael says, laughing softly. “I totally realized it before then. Do you wanna shower? We’re like covered in come.”

“What?” Luke squeaks. “Since when?” 

Michael shrugs. “Well, since I came on you, I guess.” He beams at Luke, then rolls out of bed, narrowly avoiding Luke’s grabby hands trying to keep him there. “You haven’t had any reason to be jealous for awhile,” he says, and scampers to the bathroom with Luke starting to smile, tumbling out of bed and running to catch up to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you'd like to share this story on Tumblr, please [reblog this link](http://cyclogenesis.tumblr.com/post/109039279581/one-hand-ties-the-other-michael-clifford-luke). I love feedback on my work both here and [via Tumblr ask](http://cyclogenesis.tumblr.com/ask) if you have any to give or just wanna say hi. ^__^


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